


Rimming

by moodymarshmallow



Series: Exploring Limits [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Shower Sex, Smoking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie gets a text at the gym, and before he knows it, Ziya has him on his knees again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rimming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisssanitygoodbye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/gifts).



Frankie raised his arms over his head, exhaling slowly as the weight attached to the pulley clanked solidly against the stack of unused twenty-pound plates. He sat forward, pulling the towel from around his neck, using it to soak up the sweat pouring down his forehead. The muscles in his arms burned, and he was starting to wonder if he'd been ready to step up to one-hundred and sixty pounds, instead of staying at one-forty. But he'd seen guys half his size--and he wasn't that big--bench-pressing two-hundred and fifty, like they were there specifically to give him an inferiority complex. Frankie bent at the waist to pick up his water bottle before walking away from the machine. He downed half the water and dumped the rest over his head, shaking out his hair, much to the dismay of a few young women in yoga pants and sports bras. He toweled off his hair as he walked to his locker to open it, the key on a chain around his neck. He reached in for his bag, then stopped, realizing that the light on his cell phone was flashing. He picked it up, unlocked the screen, and grinned.

Ziya had texted him two words: _call me_.

Tossing the towel into one of the many laundry bins scattered around the gym, Frankie tapped the screen to return the missed call and hefted his gym bag out of the locker. Ziya answered quickly, his familiar voice silky on the other end of the line.

“Frankie, Frankie.” In his mind’s eyes, Frankie could see him laying on the couch in his living room, head propped on the arm, curling his fingers in his hair, more teenage girl than double major. He was probably even painting his nails, his e-cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. Frankie swallowed hard, wishing he'd kept the rest of his water. He shook his head, but couldn’t shake the image, or the smile on his lips as he listened. “I have an entire day and nothing to do. So, you’d like to come over, wouldn’t you?”

“I might,” Frankie said, glancing towards the showers, then at the clock on the wall. “When?”

“Now.”

For weeks now he’d been trying to figure out whether it was a shift in the tone of Ziya’s smooth voice, or something physical that sent his pulse soaring around him, but he’d ruled it all out when he realized that the reaction was the same whether he could hear and see Ziya or not. And it mattered because it bothered him, but just the same, he was leaving the gym without showering, with the phone to his ear.

“I just finished working out. I’ll jog over; I need the cool down anyway.”

“Good,” Ziya said, and Frankie closed his eyes just long enough to compose himself before beginning to jog.

\------

“Jesus, Frankie,” Ziya said when he opened the door. “You smell like you fucked the entire gym.” Ziya stood in the doorway in a pair of patterned leggings and a maroon peplum top that flared out over his hips, giving his straight body the illusion of curves. He was barefoot, his toenails painted neon green, and his hair was pulled back with what looked like a silk scarf. Frankie could smell coconut vapor on him from his e-cigarette. He was starting to like coconut a great deal.

“Hey,” Frankie said, catching his breath. “You were the one who told me to come over now, weren’t you?” He leaned in to get his face closer to Ziya’s. "You might have to spell things out for me. Does now always mean now, or does now mean ‘when you’re presentable?’ Because what I heard was _now_ , so I jogged my ass over here.”

Grinning, Ziya grabbed Frankie’s collar and pulled him into the flat. “And that was exactly what you were supposed to do,” he said, and lifted a hand to stroke Frankie’s sweaty hairline. Ziya's teeth came down lightly on his lower lip as he looked Frankie over. He then pressed his mouth to Frankie's sweaty temple. “Why don't we go take a shower?” Ziya released him and turned, stopping suddenly to crouch and pick up his three-legged cat. "Come on Baby Bird," he said softly to her, speaking in a completely different tone of voice than Frankie was familiar with. "Someone's going to trip over you again." He placed her on the couch gently, rubbing her back when she leaned into it, then turned to Frankie again.

"What if I don't have any clean clothes," Frankie asked while following him.

"Then you either put your sweaty ones back on, or you stay naked." Ziya grinned at him from over his shoulder. "I like that plan more."

Before Frankie had the chance to respond, Ziya had led him into the bathroom, which he hadn't stayed long enough to need the first time he was there. It was large, given the general size of Ziya's flat, with double sinks and a big shower with sliding glass doors. The fixtures were bronze, and on the floor were plush mats the color of sand.

"So, let me guess, the realtor showed you the bathroom first?"

Ziya laughed and pulled his top up over his head, folding it once over itself and laying it on the counter. Frankie paused to watch him take down his hair. Every time they'd fooled around, it had been with clothes mostly on, and he was possessed by an overwhelming curiosity about Ziya's body.

Ziya's navel was pierced; he remembered that much from the time he'd been pushed against the bookcases. In his mind's eye, though, Ziya's body was more idealized, like the guys at the gym with six-pack abs and rounded, muscular chests. He watched Ziya pull down his leggings, realizing that he was actually on the chubby side. His belly was soft, rounded, and his thighs were plump and full. When Ziya noticed him staring, he turned to show him the firm curve of his ass while he pulled down a pair of lacy, low-cut, and utterly pointless, but delicious underwear. Ziya was no sculpted David. No modeling scouts would be chasing him down to pose in hundred dollar boxers, but he had wide-spaced black freckles forming sparse constellations on the smooth darkness of his skin, and the silver stud on his navel was like the moon in the night sky. Still dressed, Frankie reached for him, to touch the soft convex plane of his stomach, to feel the heat radiating from his skin. Ziya watched him with a slight smile, and when he caught Frankie's eye, he placed one finger under his chin and tilted it up.

"Clothes off, Frankie. Now."

He didn't have to say more.

Ziya liked his showers hot, and Frankie stood with his back against the cool tile wall while Ziya adjusted the water, frowning at the knobs. When his hair got wet, the curls stretched, then flattened against his head and neck, and watching him bent halfway over, hair plastered to his body, made him impossibly real. _Just a man, really, not even a remarkable one_ , Frankie thought, but when Ziya settled on a temperature and turned to face him, there were water droplets on his long eyelashes and Frankie felt a rush of adrenaline stronger than when he was at the gym.

He was going to tell him to do something, and he was going to say yes.

"I want to wash your hair," Ziya said, somewhat casually, as if he had asked whether Frankie preferred ketchup to mustard. Frankie blinked.

"My hair. Why?"

"Because I want to. Is that not a good enough reason?" One of Ziya's thin brows crept up toward his hairline, and Frankie shrugged. Carefully, he switched places with Ziya so his back was to the water, and he tilted his head into it, dousing his sweaty hair. Awkwardly, he first tried to cross his arms, then rest his hands on his hips, but when Ziya squirted shampoo into his hands he came close enough for Frankie to hold him, so he did. He wrapped his arms around Ziya's waist as Ziya raised his to rub soapy fingers through his hair. Frankie's cock was half-hard, and from the way Ziya pressed his thigh against him, he guessed he knew and approved.

Frankie closed his eyes as Ziya lathered up his hair, rubbing the tips of his fingers in circles on his scalp. He had a sudden flash of imagination, feeling those fingertips waking him up on a lazy morning, and shook it out of his mind.

"Keep your head still or I might get soap in your eyes," Ziya said calmly, and Frankie realized the shake hadn't been wholly mental. Ziya rubbed his knuckles lightly against his scalp, then relaxed his hands. "Lean back into the spray." When he did, he felt Ziya brushing his fingers through his wet hair, rinsing out the shampoo.

"That was strange," Frankie said when Ziya stepped back, and he dipped his head back into the water to rinse his hair with his own hands. Ziya just chuckled.

"Switch places with me again," he said, so Frankie gingerly squeezed around him, but when he was on the other side of the shower again, he felt Ziya's hand slip between his legs to fondle his cock. He sucked in a fast breath as Ziya pressed him to the wall, his mouth light against his jaw while he slowly stroked his cock. "I still want to fuck you," Ziya whispered against his ear, and he pressed his lower body firmly to Frankie's, laughing kindly when he shuddered. "You ready yet?

"No," Frankie said softly, part of him desperate to say yes, to make Ziya happy, but he was still full of nerves when he thought about Ziya inside of him.

"That's fine. But I want to touch you." He trailed his forefinger in a lazy circle around the swollen head of Frankie's cock. "Turn around and put your hands against the wall." Warm relief oozed through Frankie at a request that he could obey, and he turned around, bracing himself against the wall, a hard shudder wracking him when Ziya brushed his hand lightly over his lower back. Ziya pushed his body against his again, his cock pressing hard against his thigh. "You are such a good boy," he whispered, and Frankie flexed his hands against the wall, dizzy with want. "Has anyone ever touched you back here?" Ziya slid his hand over Frankie's ass, one finger lightly tracing the line between his cheeks. Frankie shook his head. "Do you want me to?" Frankie swallowed. It seemed impossible that he was at the gym forty-five minutes ago, working his last few reps. That all seemed muddy and unreal compared to Ziya's soft voice and his body against his back.

"Yes," Frankie said, his voice all shuddering breath.

"Spread your legs." Frankie did what he asked as well as he could, his ankles pressing against the porcelain tub. He felt Ziya's body move back away from him, then felt him spreading his cheeks with his hands. He folded his arms against the wall and pressed his face into them, flushed red and hot at the unfamiliar sensation of Ziya's fingers against his skin. Ziya kissed the small of his back, then the back of his thigh, as he dropped to his knees in the tub behind him. "What do you want me to do, Frankie? I want to hear it."

Frankie's head buzzed with desire. Thinking was like running up a waterfall. The one thought that came to the forefront was that Ziya wasn't supposed to be asking, he was supposed to be _telling,_ and he was supposed say yes. With his head against the tiles, Frankie swallowed. "Anything," he finally said, the sound of his weak voice echoing off the shower walls making his balls throb.

"Just not my cock?" Ziya asked to clarify, and Frankie nodded, answering verbally when Ziya did nothing. Once he got a confirmation, he didn't wait, and Frankie gasped at the firm press of Ziya's hot tongue against a very sensitive, very private part of his body. The sudden rush of sensation made his head spin, but what was really unexpected was how good it felt, how right it felt to be exposed like that with the hot water pouring down his back to rival the heat of Ziya's breath and wet tongue.

"Jesus Christ, Ziya," he groaned, pressing his face into his arms. His cheeks were hot and flushed as he tilted his pelvis back and up, arching his back in unprompted effort to give Ziya better access to his ass. He heard Ziya chuckle softly, and felt his hand on his side, stroking him gently in encouragement. Ziya squeezed his inner thigh, his tongue trailing from behind his balls and up past his asshole, vigorous and thorough, until his balls were so tight he thought he might cum from the rimming alone. And he thought he might want that too, but Ziya stopped, stood, and kissed the back of his neck, giving his ass one last little squeeze.

"Do you want to cum?" he asked softly, and Frankie nodded roughly. "I don't want you to yet," he whispered, biting down on his shoulder gently. "Are you going to wait until I make you cum?" Frankie nodded again; there was no question. "Mmm, you're a very good boy," Ziya purred against his throat, and Frankie heard himself whimper as Ziya gently rolled his balls in his hand. "Face me. On your knees." Ziya had to hold Frankie's arm to keep him from slipping, and he stroked his hair gently once he was on the floor. "So eager," he whispered, and bent at his waist, cupping Frankie's scruffy chin and tilting up his face to kiss his forehead.

Then Frankie's mouth was full of clean water and hard cock, and he ignored the ache in his balls that had him desperate, focusing instead on the firmness of Ziya's hand on the back of his head, the thickness of his cock filling his mouth. Ziya thrust into his mouth, and Frankie did what he could to relax his throat, the throb in his cock and the ache in his balls only intensifying when he felt Ziya's cock slip deeper with each thrust until his jaw ached from stretching it as wide as he could. He looked up at Ziya to see his eyes were rolled back, his lips parted, and a rush of heat, of _pride_ ran through him. He slid his mouth up and down the length of Ziya's cock until his fingers twisted into his hair and shoved his head forward, cum filling his mouth. He swallowed, sucked the tip of Ziya's cock until he pulled back, then looked up at him expectantly, licking his lips. Ziya urged him up onto his feet again, and, with his mouth hard against Frankie's, stroked him until he came on Ziya's wet stomach. Frankie leaned his head over his shoulder to rest on him once their kiss broke, gasping through the dizziness.

\------

With a towel around his waist, Ziya led Frankie to his bedroom, where he threw himself comfortably onto a bed full of paisley, multi-colored pillows, all jewel tones and deep colors. The bed sat under a large window, the left side against the wall so they both had to crawl in. The impractical rainbow suited him, and Frankie carefully climbed on the bed next to him, eyes lighting when Ziya reached for the familiar e-cig charger on his windowsill. He gently placed it between Frankie's lips, then took the towel from around his waist to dry his hair.

They sat that way for a while, Ziya opened the window a crack for fresh, warm air from the late spring evening. He let Frankie take the e-cig from him, instead picking up another one from the windowsill that was shaped more like a thick dry-erase marker with a tapered end, putting that in his mouth and inhaling. The scent of cinnamon on his lips. Frankie leaned up to kiss him, sighing through his nose as Ziya stroked his neck gently.

Frankie laid his head back into one of Ziya's many plush pillows, looking up at the ceiling, where Ziya had hung gauzy fabric that matched the colors of his bedspread. He felt the end of the bed sink in and tilted his head up to see that the cat was now laying there, looking out the window. It all felt normal.

"Why do I let you do this?" Frankie asked, speaking to the ceiling more than to Ziya. Ziya, who was leaning against the wall, a towel still draped over his head, raised a brow at him and made a vague questioning noise. "I've never let anyone tell me what to do. Anyone. So why do I let you do it?"

"I can stop if you want to," Ziya said, slipping the vapor pen into his mouth again, exhaling sweet-smelling water vapor through his nose.

Frankie furrowed his brows and sat back on the pillow further, putting the small black cylinder to his lips and taking a deep breath in. His head was clear, humming calm from the nicotine, and with his cock soft and cool against his thigh, there was no desire to push past to think. "No. I don't," he said after a few minutes of thought. "But I don't get it."

"What's to get?" Ziya asked, lazily twirling his vapor pen in one hand. "I like history. I like nicotine. I like cheap beer and chocolate. I like painting my nails and showing people my cock. I like floor-length gowns and wearing lace underwear. Why do we have to _get_ any of that?" He leaned over Frankie's prone body, laying himself next to him, warm and pliant, his skin soft when Frankie placed a hand on him. "I like to tell you what a good boy you are, and you like to hear it. Why does it have to be more complicated than that?"

Frankie wound his fingers into Ziya's damp hair, twisting curls around each one slowly. "I guess it doesn't."

With one finger, Ziya pushed Frankie's cheek to the side, so he was facing him, two sets of bright blue eyes meeting. "You know you can always say no. You _never_ have to do a damn thing just because I told you to."

Frankie parted his lips, then closed them. He returned Ziya's e-cigarette by tucking it behind his ear, then drew him close. Into his lips, he whispered, "But I want to," and Ziya kissed him, hard, and it all felt normal. It felt right.


End file.
